


Las Drogas

by bluay (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 10-faced Prussia, Art College, F/M, Hungary's a cool aunt, M/M, Substance Abuse, probably angsty Spain, sex and swears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 06:45:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1769506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bluay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Prussia, Spain and Hungary are art students and live in a shared house with Cuba. Substance abuse, car boot-sales and late nights are their favourite things. Then Romano moves in to help pay the rent, and the delicate balance of their existence is disrupted. Now they have to resolve their personal issues, or risk being crushed by their own despair.<br/>When the truth is found to be lies, and all the joy, within you, dies.<br/>Don't you want somebody to love?<br/>Don't you need somebody to love?<br/>Won't you love somebody to love?<br/>You gotta find somebody to love. (about Hungary, Prussia, Spain and Romano.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enter la Gente

"Yeah, OK... I'll be there for 4 then..."

Lovino was 18 and just starting art college when he met them. He'd seen the ad in the college paper; 4 older post-graduate students looking for an additional tenant to make the rent cheaper. He'd called them, eager for the opportunity to move from his own flat which he shared; 18 was an awkward age to live with one's brother.

'5 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a large kitchen & plenty of space.' A house, no less.

Now here he was, stood on the doorstep. First impressions? The place was small, sporting graffiti on it's left side. In fact the whole street was; a thin, dirty little back passage lined with terraces, each home a lanky squatting crow, and their rows of beady little window-eyes were watching him, maliciously, expecting.

Lovino fidgeted under the pressure, but he was showered, shaven, dressed and ready, so he took a deep breath and rapped his fist on the door. Barely a moment later a click sounded the door swinging open to reveal a polite woman, a little older and taller than himself. Her hair was dishevelled and wavy, a dull greyish brown, framing her warming smile.

"You must be Lovino! We talked earlier? Come in, I'll show you around," Lovino stepped through the threshold into the hall. Bare concrete floors and stripped back, whitewashed walls. "Oh. They replied," She said to herself, picking up a couple of letters. The place was almost clinical in atmosphere but for the dull grey lighting, making it seem comfortable, but cold. He held out his hand for her to shake.

"Nice to meet you... Erzsébet?"

"Yeah, that's me honey. Glad you remembered. Most people don't get my name the first time, but I guess you're an international student as well?"

"I'm from Italy." She smiled at him. They started walking down the hall past a series of closed doors and a stair case leading upstairs. The place looked small from the front but it went far back like a giant laterally facing shoebox, so that while thin on the outside face it was inside very large and had many spacious rooms.

"So what is it that you're into?" Lovino gave her a look. "I mean, what are you studying,"

"Oh, I-I like lithography,"

"That's cool. Gil!" She shouted forward, "Our guy's here, put your shit away," There was laughing from behind the door. "And please be decent..."

Then the door opened, the last door, and that's when he met them. 3 men, older than himself, staring at him with varying degrees of intensity. They were sat on a sofa and chair made of black leather with... stab holes? It was hard to tell, the holes having been crudely patched up with a neon yellow fabric. Latino; fair-haired; dreadlocks. The Latino sat in the single leather chair smiling at him, looking genuinely happy. A pause.

"So these guys are Gilbert, Carlos, and Antonio," She pointed to each as she said their names.

"Nice to meet you dude," Carlos said to be polite, then turning back to the TV.

"'Dude', that's _exactly_ my point. Good work Liz! This place is now officially a cockfest." Gilbert said sarcastically.

"Fuck of Gil. Just because he's not wearing a cravat and looking through his nose at you. Good thing though, otherwise you'd be rolling 'round the floor palming yourself through your jeans." Erzsébet countered. Antonio and Carlos laughed and then laughed harder when Gilbert started blushing furiously and scowling at her. Carlos's was loud and brash, Antonio's laugh made Lovino's lips quirk into a smile, but he was soon smirking at the scene unfolding before him.

"Piss of Liz, you lil' bitch. You of all people know I don't actually like that snotty stuck-up prick." He spat, turning away to the TV and crossing his arms with a pout.

"I'm only winding you up, Gil, " She laughed, leaning over the sofa to shove his shoulder, "You know I love you really," Lovino found himself awkwardly just watching, not catching any of the references. Erzsébet turned to him. Were these two a couple? "So, y'know... there's a big thing we need to fill you in on about us, if you want to live here," She turned back at Lovino.

"It's a bit of a turn-off for most people," Gilbert interjected. Again they were all staring at him, ready to gauge his reaction.

"We're kinda junkies-" 

"Mostly weed," Gilbert grinned.

"No! Not you! Us, maybe," She said, furiously gesturing to the rest of them. " _You're_ all over the place!"

Lovino was stunned. He had seen people high before, but never anyone he knew personally, never had he done anything himself-

"Look dude, it's okay if you're not up for staying with us, we get it," Carlos explained.

"But we _really_ need the extra money," Erzsébet paused and looked Lovino in the eyes, "I'm not that bad. Really, I'm not. I only do it- only occasionally, just because it's fun and relaxing." It was a lot to think about. "We're not really that bad. We just,"

"It's mostly Gilbert that tends to the harder stuff, and it's not really everyday or anything. We go out at weekends, the lot of us, Gil usually gets some stuff," Antonio said. Gilbert's grin was like a shark's.

"Anyway, I'll take you around to see the rest of the place," She took Lovino by the arm and lead him around. There was apparently no central heating system, but, Erzsébet told him, it wasn't usually that cold anyway except in winter and they have plenty of blankets and a fire pit downstairs.

The rooms were bare and large, a couple were stained with orange and green on the floor, others contained stacks of cakes. Lovino didn't bother to question, so overcome by their weirdness. The house had an old-fashioned build but modern insides, but, she told him, the building was left unfinished during the renovation and expansion. They had hot water and electricity, but that was about it.

Apparently Carlos had been looking for a place a couple of years ago when he found it, rent cheap for it's size; it went from there.  

And so it was. After being shown around, they made their way downstairs to say goodbye, Lovino said he'd call in the morning to let them know his decision.

 

* * *

 

 

Heading home to his brother, his head was spinning for what he'd seen. After the 3 flights of blundering stairs that made his legs ache, he stuck his key in the door and pushed it open-

And nearly burst into flames as his brother, completely naked- threw his head back and gasped for breath; crying the lord's name over his idiot, groaning German friend, just metres away from where he stood.

He span and slammed the door shut behind him, deaf to the sounds of Feliciano and Ludwig inside scrambling about putting clothes on.

"Bastard..."

18 was an awkward age to live with one's brother.


	2. Fumo, fumas, fumamos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A scene, featuring Liz and Gil. At least it's something okay? Writing's hard.   
> trying to like, set the tone of their relationship so it's easier to get later on or something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned for swearing and bad words which may be deemed offensive. They are however part of characterisation and used creatively, not maliciously.   
> I don't really know. I write scenes sometimes... Eventually I'll come by and edit them up into chapters and sort them and upload. I really don't know. This is sometime soon after Lovino starts to move in. Like a day after or something.

Saturday and somewhere around 4, which means he's high and climbing higher, fumes swirling about the living room, barely pierced by the light filtering in through the front and it feels almost like how he imagines a shanghai opium den to have been. There are crystals on the coffee table, their impure grey tone masked by the dim light. Methamphetamine, low quality because he can't afford anything good. Erzsébet was out walking some old bird's dogs from down the road for pocket cash and because she's always had a soft spot for old gals, say's their "cute". He realises he forget to tell her to get more milk.

There's a banging somewhere and it takes him a moment to realise she's home, at the door.

"Hey." She hands him the milk in a little blue plastic bag that tells him she's been to the corner shop. She crouches to undo her shoes and humms when she notices the smell.

"Uh-huh. You up for anything?" He asks; shuffling back through the living room into the kitchen with the milk, leaving her in the entrance.

"I'm hoping you mean something to smoke and not a screw."

He can hear the smirk. He struggles to get the milk in the door in the fridge and leans on the kitchen work-surface, his left arm twitching. Notices his heart hammering in his chest, wishes he hadn't got out his glass and just stuck to weed.

"Miss making shit with metal." He blurted. "You seen the thing at The Eden Project? Some sculpture thing, this guy leaning over, made out of all sorts of recycled kitchen and home appliances, wires and shit everywhere, it's fucking awesome. Just remembered it. Wanna make somethin' like that. I don't even know where the nearest scrap heap or tip is. Got some spare copper up- it's real thin shit I use for my solenoids though I can't. Need some PVC,"

"Put the kettle on?" She interrupts with a smile as she comes in, heads back into the living room and puts out his pipe. Bins what's left inside, opens a window.

"Yeah yeah sure. Wait so where're Toni and Carlos? Reckon I could nick a pig-transformer from a power line? Need more volts, need a bigger toroid, an actual aluminium one not fucking foil fuck that shit." He sets a couple of mugs down on the counter and tries to remember whether she takes sugar.

"Aluminium foil? Like kitchen foil? Don't think we have any, anyway." She's back in the kitchen, leaning against the fridge, green woollen cardigan, jeans and Muppets socks. She's doing the thing. There's a light wetness to her hair and clothes, so it must've rained. He imagines, for a moment, a split-second, that she would feel really, really warm.

"Er-erm," he's leaned back over the counter, eyes flitting around. What was he thinking about again?

"You talking about making another one of those Coil things? Or something else? Never seen you use foil for the antennae-things."

"Jacob's Ladders." He corrects almost instantly, nodding. She waits for a moment, then the kettle clicks off and the water's finished boiling. He pours the water, looking confused.

"Carlos said he'd be home around 9. He's at his mum's,"

"He not coming out tonight?"

"No idea where Toni is. Might be out shopping." He nodded.

"Tea."

"Thanks." She took the mug, breathing in the steam.

"Yeah; no, I'm not planning on going out tonight either. I've got a paper to finish writing and sourcing, which'll be the night."

"Cool, yeah. I was just chillin' anyway. Guess I could get started on something new, had a couple ideas a bit ago."

"Cool." They stand there, he realises he's mirrored her shape without thinking by leaning on the work-top, so that they face each other. The mug of tea in his hand is hot and just about not painful, the prickling heat soothing, helping him relax. She smiles. Again. Does she ever stop smiling? There was something comfortable at these though, these moments they had. Not just Erzsébet and him, but with Carlos and Tonio too. He often finds himself thinking that he 'lives for the night's he won't remember with the people he'll never forget', but now he realises that's not true. These moments, when they're just existing together in the same space, and it's easy and chilled-out, she's smiling and it's making him warm, the light's dim and the silence easy.

His breathing rate's slowed down.

"Hey! So my lil' bro apparently fucked that pussy-who-came-'round's brother! Can you believe it?"

"What, Lovino's brother?" The shock made her eyes twinkle. "He's no pussy,"

"Yeah, yeah. No, but," He grinned like a shark." I knew he was queer, fucking knew it. Bet it was his first time. I'm so proud of him."

"...Kind of endearing; kind of also weird and perverted and ever-so-slightly incestual how interested in his sex life you can be."

"Piss off!" He laughed. "No... You don't get it though, I knew it before he knew it, y'know?"

"Nein, Herr Stick. I don't."

"Don't talk about that. No, I mean, like he was such a bender sometimes." Her eyes widened is some mix of disbelief and confusion. "Not camp or anything! Jesus, no. That sounded weird. Just, he was never... I used to ask him when he was a kid if there were any girls he liked, he'd always say no. At first I figured he's just not the type. Probably more into his numbers than pussy. But I asked him if, if he had to say which girl was prettiest in his class or whatever, and he said he didn't know. That got me wondering."

"Right. Still kinda thinking there's some pretty distinctive creepy-vibes here,"

"No, no, no. Listen, then I started wondering if he was bent, and, obviously I couldn't say anything, because it's his to work out y'know?" She nodded, any expression imperceptible as she sipped her scalding hot tea. "But I started noticing little things. He was shy around this one guy, -though in fairness he looked more like a girl- when I picked him up from football practice a few times. Then when he was older there were the times I walked in on him browsing German dungeon porn."

"...What." She dead-panned. "No, German dungeon porn isn't even a gay thing. It could've been women."

Gilbert just gave her a levelled stare.

"Erm,"

"Let me explain something. Germany, " He pointed to himself, "Is the world's leading exporter of pornography, and hardcore kink/fetish pornography."

"That's not... How do you-"

"And it's just obvious to everyone who's ever seen them all that the best hardcore, kink/fetish porn is gay porn. Consider also that, if I did _anything_  right raising Ludwig, he'd only be interested in top-notch porn-"

"No, that's-"

"We can safely assume that what he was looking was indeed gay porn."

"You literally just said a load of shit!"

"Did I? Did I? Are you sure? Because he was just fucking the new guy's bro. So, do the math."

Erzsébet just stared, unblinking. "I literally, cannot even _comprehend_ how much of an imbecile you are sometimes, and a perverted weirdo."

"I am _not_  perverted."

She snorted. "I can't," shaking her head, she walked out, leaving him there with his tea.

He downed his tea in 4 man-sized gulps and put it in the sink, heard the voices of Jake The Dog and Fin The Human coming from the living room.

"Toni's just texted me, he'll be home soon. You can change your clothes too, you stink." She shouted.

He sighed.


	3. Alguno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess these are more like memo type things rather than chapters? There's a likelihood I'll come by and fix 'em up into nice long pretty things but like, it's real hard to write stuff. This one has a dose of angst. Also btw guys I need your feedback, what do you think of different pairings? Because I'm really fluid. I think as part of the plot I've got going on we'll see a couple of different pairings going each way before it's resolved. Anyway hope you enjoy this guysss  
> Be warned for a slight mention of gore. M for a reason, leute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also guys I reference a few things in here like bands and some brands and random bits so just a disclaimer I don't own anything except this headcanon ok

 

It was squatting on the table, truncated and resentful. Perhaps a little worse for wear; some of the metal was in need of polishing and there was a distinctive gash on the base that marred it's otherwise dark uniform tone. The grain could be made out under the fading stain work, but despite it's flaws, he saw it's intent. It was daring him.

  
The gramophone was around 70 years old and a run-of-the-mill, mass produced kind of job. It and the accompanying records were most certainly not worth the money, but that didn't matter. In this piece of scrap, there was something significant. It looked at the passers-by with disdain and jealous resentment and there was just something beautifully human about it.

The metal was some kind of smooth to his hand but he supposed it was for the the dirt and scratches. He barely even glanced the records over; some in covers, some not- and never even looked to see if it might be able to play anything. The salesman caught his eye from a distance and then, before he knew it, his hand was in his pocket and fisting all the cash at the man. There may have been some kind of counting it up and a discreet shrug, but he was already beaming at his prize.

___

Antonio listens to Vocaloid, because he's an imbecile with little to no music taste. The only thing they have in common music wise is some of the Spanish-folky-type shit he sometimes plays (And Shakira, but don't tell anyone). Those kinda sounds, if he's caught in the right mood, are just really great. Something like a gentle melancholy and something like a gentle happiness that just fits Antonio to a T, something that prompts pensive and reflective moods and they're the fodder and filters for his paintings. He says, it feels like walking around his hometown during a fiesta at 3 in the morning, eating Chewits and pointlessly following a stray dog with his childhood friends.

Typically Gilbert prefers the harsher tones of the world, he likes the way that when he's turned it up as far as it goes it almost sounds like white noise and he can lie there and not have to think. Introspection is great, in his opinion- but there's a thin boundary between introspection and dwelling and perpetuating that freaks him out. Rammstein, and their subtle, dulcet screams of "BEND OVER I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR FACE" are just the kind of things he needs to unwind and stop thinking about some things.

  
There are a few things that Gilbert doesn't like to think about. In his mind palace, (or mind garage, mind backstreet alley-) there dwell wretched, unrequited feelings of angst for his close friends, and for life in general. The exact aspects of which are difficult to grasp, but they're something along the lines of romance and friendship that are too protracted and twisty to try to discuss with himself. Then there's the image of blood squirting out of his dad's ears and his head splitting apart just a couple of feet in front of him.

  
It comes in flashes; a momentary glance, when he blinks- it's-there-and-it's-gone, he wills it away now with the skill of someone who's had 16 years practice. Inside he thinks about feeling sick and something like a spasm and he's so angry with himself that he keeps reminding himself about it. Honestly though, it feels more like tiredness. He's tired of thinking about it. Nothing can change. The PTSD won't ever properly go away. He's studied the whole thing through and explained and relayed it endlessly to sincere faces one after the after. He's just exhausted with it all.

These things happen though.

Thoughts along those particular lines tend to lead him to his mother. She was a nice woman. Is. And a decent mother. She really tried, but there's a healthy dose of chaos in this world, and not everyone can deal with it's sudden and disastrous consequences.

Enough of that.  
____  
So it's a about 11 pm Friday evening and we're watching the animated version of 'The King and I', thinking about maybe a Disney marathon, sat in a three-seater and two armchairs, though Lovino's sat on the floor by Liz's feet. Antonio and Carlos are speaking in rapid fire Spanish to each other. Someone in the film looks really sad, and I remark,

"I looked into his gothic red eyes, he was wearing coloured contacts, and they revealed so much depressing sorrow."

"Did you just?" Liz asks with a smile.

"My name is Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way," Carlos says.

"I'm not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he's a major fucking hottie!" Antonio blurts, Lovino laughs.

"No way is Gerard Way your type, Toni." Liz comments, and I consider that. What even is Toni's type, anyway?

"I'm too old to be a scene kid," He agrees, shaking his head with resignation.

"Well who is his type then?" I ask.

"Her." Carlos answers instantly, pointing at the singing lady on the screen. Me and Liz both snort derisively at the idea, prompting us to share a moment.

"No way. He is her. Like if his balls dropped off and he grew breasts. So his type would be more like the King?" Lovino says.

"But then who's the King? " Liz asks urgently.

"Well he's a moody fuck from the looks of things," I pause, the the implications of what I said catch up to me and I spot Lovino's left leg suddenly twitch as the moment seems to drag itself out. "He looks pretty neat and he's authoritative. He reminds me of my Bruder, if not for the posse of little kids that orbit him," That was a close save.

"Oh my gggod!" Antonio splutters, Liz and Carlos laugh loudly. I spot Lovino waiting a few moments before stretching his arms and shuffling a little closer to Liz and further from Toni. It's obvious to me, so what does that say? I feel a wave of pity for Lovino.

"Oh my god look at her dancing around with the kids! She is literally you I swear to god," Liz beams and shoves Toni in the shoulder.

"Do you guys see me as a...?"

"¿Qué?"

"Y'know,"

"Huh?" 

"Like, into kids,"

"Nein. No but Toni you are a little awkward to be around sometimes when there are kids about,"

His face was something like incredulous. "I just like kids! They're cute and funny,"

"Yeah we feel you bro. It's just, sometimes like other people don't know how you are and stuff, like we do so yeah, and they might assume the worst." Liz reassures him. He is cute around kids though. He'll be a great father one day. "That sounded really dodgy. Anyway I've had enough 'o this gal. Sweet as she is I really wanna play Street Fighter. Anyone man enough?"

"You're on." Even though she always beats me.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!! :D:D Sorry it isn't any longer D: It's really hard to write, gkhgfgk

**Author's Note:**

> I love how spell checker suggest sherbet as a correction for Erzsébet.  
> Please review guys! Let me know how I'm doing, give me encouragement :D Feel free to suggest any ideas, point out mistakes or make criticisms, it all helps!  
> Hope you liked reading this and have a nice day!


End file.
